


In the Middle

by dionysus_bound



Category: Win A Date With Tad Hamilton
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, M/M, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dionysus_bound/pseuds/dionysus_bound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tad Hamilton return to Frazier's Bottom still trying to find perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Middle

**Author's Note:**

> written for my trope_bingo card (spring 2013)

It was really freaking dark. No street lights. No cars. No search lights brightening the sky to announce the latest premiere. Just a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. He’d driven by the driveway twice before he’d found it. Now, he’d already stumbled over a side table, dropped his overnight bag on his foot, tripped on the couch and landed hard on the floor.

And he still hadn’t found a lamp.

He lay there on the hardwood floor for a second, trying to remember why this had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago. The truth was, though, Hollywood and the lifestyle he used to lead there no longer fit him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t found anything to replace it, in the inevitable, crazy-making time between filming. Except, the brief time he’d spent in Frazier’s Bottom. Of course, he’d always chalked that up to the girl who got away. But another interminable day by the pool with the same, plastic Barbie wannabes had given him the brilliant idea that maybe the _town_ could help him find that peace again.

“Who’s there?” A sleepy, angry voice demanded.

Tad froze. He was miles from anyone else and someone was in his house. Okay, granted, it had been more than two years since he’d been back to Frazier’s Bottom West Virginia. Any crazy vagrant could have wandered in.

A light came on, glowing down the stairwell from the second floor. Of course the vagrant could find the frigging light switch.

“I know someone’s down there. I have… I have a gun. And I know how to use it.”

The voice wavered a little and something about the bluster sounded familiar.

Tad lifted his head and saw someone hesitating halfway down the stairs. He squinted, then laughed and let his head drop back to the floor.

“Actually, you have a bat, Pete. And you’re not all that intimidating in your Daffy Duck boxers.”

“Hamilton? Is that you?” Pete straightened up and relaxed his grip on the bat. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s my house,” Tad pushed to his feet and dusted himself off. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Pete stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You had Della rent it out months ago. I’m your tenant.”

“Oh, right.” Della Nichols ran the local real estate office. She also owned the curtain and bath store that passed for interior decorating in Frazier’s Bottom. And her husband ran a construction crew. He’d hired the couple to renovate, decorate and take care of the upkeep on the farmhouse, since he couldn’t decide what to do with it. Every time he thought about selling it, he remembered how he’d felt in Frazier’s Bottom. Like a real person, not an action figure for his agent and manager and the tabloids to move and shape at their whim. He couldn’t quite bring himself to give it up.

He vaguely remembered a conversation after the twenty-plus months of renovations and decorating were finally done, that he should get a tenant now that the crews weren’t going to be there every day. Someone to keep an eye on the place and give him a little return on investment until he decided what he wanted to do with it.

Apparently he’d agreed.

“Right. So, ah, you live here.”

“Yes. Which means you’re not supposed to be here. I have a lease agreement.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“Sam at the Bide-A-Way Motel still speaks of you fondly. Bet he’d find a room for you.”

“C’mon. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yes, and you’re lucky I didn’t call the sheriff, or you’d be spending the night in his single cell.”

Tad crossed his arms and smirked, remembering the reception he’d gotten from the town last time. “Doubt it.”

Pete muttered to himself about celebrities and preferential treatment.

“Is Rosalee here?”

Tad hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but he’d been wondering about her since he’d realized the ‘intruder’ in his home was the man he’d lost her to. He just wasn’t sure if he asked because he wanted to see her or because he wanted to avoid her.

“No.”

The answer was cold, harsh and final. But Tad had played heartbroken enough times to hear the faint hint of hurt vibrating underneath.

“Uh, where is she?” He knew he shouldn’t poke at the wound, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

Pete sighed and his shoulders drooped a little bit. “Last thing I heard, she and her fiancé had opened a boutique art gallery in Richmond.”

“Fiancé?” Tad choked a little when he asked.

“Yeah,” Pete’s answer was softer and full of sorrow before he cleared his throat and turned to head back up the stairs. “I’m using the master bedroom. Haven’t changed the sheets in the guest rooms since I moved in. You can take your chances.”

He disappeared back up onto the second floor before Tad could say a word. He did, however leave the hall light on upstairs. Grabbing his overnight bag, Tad decided the rest of his luggage could wait in his rental until morning and fell into the first empty bed he found.

#

Tad groaned and rolled over when streaks of sunlight hit his eyes. Of course he’d chosen a room with an east facing window. Hadn’t Della ever heard of black-out blinds? She owned a curtain shop, for god’s sake.

He squeezed his eyes tight, but sounds of shuffling and plates rattling from the kitchen below him refused to be tuned out. And when the smell of fresh brewed coffee hit his nose, Tad gave up on getting back to sleep. Rolling out of bed, he grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms out of his bag before heading downstairs. A surprising number of people found nudity before noon disconcerting.

The once over followed by an eye-roll Pete gave him before returning his attention to an open laptop, suggested Tad’s attempts to be a good house-guest weren’t entirely successful. He probably should have grabbed a t-shirt, too.

The freshly washed egg pan in the strainer and the single, half-eaten plate of food next to Pete made it clear it was up to Tad to scrounge up his own breakfast. But the coffee pot was full and the mugs were conveniently in the cupboard above it.

After inhaling half the mug, he finally felt somewhat alive and wandered over to where Pete was tapping away at his keyboard. Bracing his hand on the back of the chair, he leaned over Pete’s shoulder and asked, “What’cha working on?”

Pete jumped, then shied away from Tad, slamming the laptop shut. “None of your business.”

Hand and mug in the air, Tad stepped back trying to show he was harmless, but the violent scowl aimed at him didn’t lessen in the least. “Sorry. Just curious what you’re doing up so early.”

“Work. I have to be at the Piggly Wiggly in half an hour.” The scowl eased and Pete carefully stowed the laptop in his messenger bag, before taking his plate and mug to the sink.

“I thought you went to grad school or something? That’s why you went to Richmond.” He racked his brain, trying to remember details he’d barely paid attention to back then.

“I did. After I graduated, Mr. Ruddy was nice enough to give me my job back when I moved home.” He dropped the cleaned dishes in the strainer with a little more force than necessary and the ferocious frown was back. “Some of us still have to punch a clock, you know. Not all of us can just parrot other people’s words to get by.”

Tad’s breath caught in his chest for a second when it finally clicked where all the hostility was coming from.

“Wait. You’re still angry about that? You do realize it was me telling Rosalee that was your speech, not mine, that made her realize she had feelings for you, right?”

The frown disappeared, but so did every other speck of emotion in Pete’s face. It was like he just completely shut off.

“Yeah, well, we see how well that worked out, don’t we?” He grabbed his bag and twisted away. “I have to get to work.”

Tad jerked his head back at the vehemence and watched, silent and thoughtful as his new roommate stormed out. Then he shrugged and rummaged around until he found everything he needed to put together an overflowing bowl of cereal. He made a mental note to get something with more sugar and less oat-bran when he went out later.

He wandered through the house, seeing it complete for the first time. He had to admit, it had certain rustic charm that some of his Hollywood acquaintances would have paid three times as much for. It managed to be both modern and cozy at the same time. And it was clear Pete was as particular about the rest of the house as he’d been about picking up his dishes. No dust or clutter dared mar a single corner. Tad glanced back at the trail of milk and cereal in his wake and made another mental note to wipe it before Pete got home.

Even the office was picture-perfect. A laptop-shaped empty space gleamed in polished perfection between a small printer, the file holder and a small stack of writing reference books covering the desk.

Along the walls, several framed diplomas rested among the landscapes Della had painstakingly chosen for the room. He set his bowl on the desk and moved closer to examine them.

Frazier’s Bottom High School framed next to his Valedictorian plaque. A local community college Tad had never heard of announcing Pete had achieved an Associate in Liberal Arts. A Marshall University BA of English. And an MFA in Creative Writing from VCU.

“Huh,” Tad murmured. A writer. Well, it at least explained why he was still cranky about Tad cribbing his six smiles speech. Writer’s could get crazy overprotective of their words. He’d had more than one script thrown at him in anger when he’d ad-libbed a scene.

It also explained why he was still working at the Piggly Wiggly.

An MFA was about as useful as a degree in acting. Unless you got lucky. Thankfully, Tad had gotten his big break before he’d even started his senior year of high school. He did have an honorary degree though.

He flopped into the unexpectedly comfy desk chair and noticed the stack of papers in the trash can. Even Pete’s garbage was neat.

He fished up the top few sheets. Might as well have something to read while he finished his cereal.

#

Tad couldn’t believe he’d been in Middle-of-Nowhere West Virginia for over a week and he still hadn’t gone stir crazy. He also couldn’t believe Pete hadn’t tried to throw him out again. Mostly, though, they stayed out of each other’s way. And after the first fifteen minute lecture on the horrors of wet towels left on bathroom floors, Tad had done his best to clean up after himself.

But it was Saturday, and, even in Frazier’s Bottom, Saturday nights were meant for going out and letting loose. Of course, the local version of letting loose was less wild pool party and more draft beer and darts. The dive bar was friendly and the drinks were cold, and Tad had slowly been dropping the Tad Hamilton, actor, facade in favor of just being Tad, neighbor and guy next door. So far, the only difference was that he was more relaxed.

He’d just finished beating Rosalee’s dad at darts when Pete walked in. The name badge and tie were gone, but he was still wearing the white shirt and black pants that were his Piggly Wiggly uniform. He flashed a smile at Angelica then a nod at Henry, before he noticed Tad and his face froze. He looked like he was about to back-pedal out of the door when Henry handed him the darts.

“You’re up, kid. I’ve got to get home. Maybe you can beat this shark.”

Pete took the darts with a wary glance at Tad.

“Why don’t you warm up so you can’t use that as an excuse when I beat you.” Tad didn’t even try to hide his smug confidence when he spoke. “I’ll go get another pitcher of beer and another mug for you.”

Pete smirked and tossed the first dart. It landed in the outer ring of the bull’s-eye. Tad just rolled his eyes and headed over for Angelica.

She plopped the pitcher on the bar and handed him the mug but didn’t let go when he closed his fingers around it.

With a delicate nod toward Pete, she whispered, “Try to get him to loosen up some, huh?”

“He been this uptight since…” Tad let the words trail off.

“Since Rosalee dumped him? Great Love will do a number on anyone.” Her eyes softened when she glanced at Pete and she let go of the mug. “He’s kind of hit the extremes. Needs to learn to live somewhere in the middle, again.”

Tad blinked at her and realized she could have been talking about him. When he was working on a film, he was focused and driven. When he wasn’t working, well, anyone who’d ever read a tabloid knew exactly what he’d gotten up to. He’d never learned to live in the middle, either.

He carried the beer back to the table by the dartboard and they played in silence for a while. At first, it was a tense silence but, as the beer disappeared, they relaxed. And then the taunting and the crowing started. In the end, Pete beat him two games to one, but the last one had been close.

They moved out of the way and sat in at a corner table, where the music wasn’t so loud.

When Angelica gave him a thumbs-up at, he noticed the way Pete’s stiff postured had loosened. He was sprawled in the chair, a faint smile curving his lips and foot tapping on the floor.

“I’m sorry about Rosalee.” Tad winced when the words jumped out of his mouth. Way to help the guy relax, remind him of the reason he was tense in the first place. He felt a twist in his own gut. An aching sadness he hadn’t let himself think about. “I mean, I really thought you guys would… you know… Make it.”

Pete’s shoulder twitched, and he lifted his mug for a long drink. “I’ve been in love with her since I was 8 years old. I always thought it would just happen, you know. I couldn’t imagine her not loving me back at some point. And when she did, finally, I thought it would last forever, too.”

Tad swallowed hard, felt a sting in his eyes that he blinked it away and covered the unexpected bout of empathy with a long swig of cheap beer.

“I was fifteen the first time I fell in love,” Tad offered when he set the mug down again.

Pete gave him a tight, humoring smile. “Oh, yeah? What was her name? Or do you only remember her measurements?”

He smirked and waited for Pete to raise the glass to his lips before answering. “ _His_ name was Leo du Pres.”

Tad barely managed to avoid the shower of beer, but the shocked, disbelieving expression was totally worth it. He smirked and nodded, tossing a handful of pretzels in his hand as he continued. “We were in the school play together. Lasted the run of the play. Then he joined the baseball team and I started auditioning for stuff outside of school and we just drifted apart.”

“Really?”

“Yup. The second time I fell in love, though, was Cherri Miller. Cherri with an _i._ I don’t know her measurements, but I sure remember the way she filled out a bikini.”

Pete laughed, relaxing again and stole one of the pretzels out of Tad’s hand. So the next words out of his mouth took Tad by surprise. “Were you in love with Rosie?”

The first answer that sprang to mind was flippant, a quick and easy brush-off. But that wasn’t really fair. And it wasn’t the Tad he was trying to be, here and now.

“I thought I was in love. She got it right when she said I only _wanted_ to love her. I wanted what she represented in my life.”

He expected Pete to tense or get that blank, cold look again. Instead, he just nodded, and sipped thoughtfully.

“I think, maybe Rosie had the same problem. You were in love with an _idea_ of her. She was in love with the _idea_ of me. She knew you weren’t in love with her. You were exciting and unknown, exotic and a little too uncertain. Then there was the romance of me having been devoted to her our whole lives. I was safe and predictable.”

“Ouch,” Tad winced, but Pete shrugged and refilled his beer from the pitcher.

“Yeah, to put it mildly. It took her about a year to realize it. She moved to Richmond with me and played house for awhile, working part time at the Piggly-Wiggly there. After a few months, she got bored and I encouraged her to take some classes.”

He sighed and curled his hands tight around the glass in front of him.

“She met _Danny_ in her art class. He was a guest speaker. Artistic and mysterious, but not completely-different-world Hollywood scary.” His lips quirked at the corner. “Still safe and stable and familiar enough.”

Pete looked up then, and Tad had to resist the urge to gather him up in a hug. A lifetime of disappointment vied with a self-depreciating resignation in his eyes. Like he blamed himself for hoping too much.

“The worst part,” Pete continued, “Was how sweet and earnest and _sorry_ she was while she was breaking my heart.”

Tad could only nod and feel that tug of disappointment again, like it had just happened. “I remember.”

That got him a sharp, sour look. “You didn’t even love her.”

“But I thought I did. And even while I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I was telling the pilot to turn around because I couldn’t even think about not making her happy.”

“Yeah. I actually helped her move her stuff out of my apartment and into his.”

“Ouch, again.”

Pete sucked in his lower lip. “Kind of lost myself for awhile after that. Starting acting like you, actually. Drinking. One night stands. Took stupid risks. Continued all through my second year of grad school and even after I moved back here. I was kind of an ass.”

He paused and took a deep breath, glancing over at the bar. “I woke up in bed with Angelica one morning. Not for the first time. She told me I was never going to love her and she deserved better. She kicked me out and refused to serve me a drop of alcohol for six months.” She looked up from wiping out a glass and smiled brightly before turning to serve a couple at the bar.

“She became my new best friend and my biggest cheerleader. She started dating Rosie’s dad, of all people.”

Tad choked a little, but that explained why Henry kept insisting on refilling the pitcher during their dart game.

Pete laughed at his expression. “It’s weird, but they’re happy.”

“How about you?” Tad couldn’t help asking.

“Truth be told, I’m better than I expected to be. I like my job, even if it’s not where I want to be in ten years. I like the town. My friends. I even like your stupid farmhouse.” He arched an eyebrow and laughed a little. “So, yeah. Happy. How about you?”

“I… honestly don’t know. I’m happy when I’m working. But the stuff I use to do to keep me sane between movies, it leaves me kind of empty now. Like a hangover that never goes away.” Leaning back in his chair, he looked around the bar. “I don’t know about happy. But I like your town and my stupid farmhouse. And I don’t feel like I’m crawling out of my skin waiting for my next job. So, yeah, this is good.”

#

After the night at the bar, the farmhouse was a more relaxed place to be. Pete stopped avoiding him and they actually spent quite a bit of time together. Tad hadn’t really had a friend since high school. He had managers and co-stars and an ever-changing entourage. Honestly, the closest thing he’d had to a friend had been Rosalee, and even then, they’d both kind of been playing at what-could-be rather than what simply was.

Nearly a month in Frazier’s Bottom and he didn’t feel stir crazy at all. He was actually enjoying a Friday afternoon watching the deer in the sprawling backyard, while sipping beer from his back porch. The sound of Pete coming in from work pulled his attention and he wandered inside. His roommate was already rummaging in the fridge for a beer of his own.

“Bad day at work?”

“Nope.”

Tad waited, but Pete just twisted the cap off and started drinking.

“Traffic jam?”

Pete rolled his eyes and lowered the beer. “Funny. Check out the mail.”

He pointed the lip of his bottle at the pile of envelopes scattered on the table. Another sign something was wrong. Usually the mail was neatly sorted and placed in the appropriate slot of the mail holder in the office as soon as it came out of the mailbox. Which was why Tad never checked the mail.

He pawed through it until he saw the cream colored envelope, carefully addressed to Pete in lavender-inked calligraphy.

He picked it up and choked a little. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Rosalee sent you a wedding invitation? Even she can’t be that naive.”

The scowl actually perked up into a half grin.

“Hundred bucks says you got one, too.”

Tad tilted his head in bemusement, knowing Pete was right. She was that optimistic. “Not taking that bet.”

By mutual, tacit agreement, they stayed in after dinner, rather than heading for the bar. Some moods needed a group atmosphere. Some, though, needed the quiet melancholy of home. Pete started to grab a couple more beers but Tad stopped him. He picked up the good whiskey and a couple shot glasses and they settled outside on the porch.

He poured the first round and lifted it toward Pete. “To Rosalee.”

With a clink, the glasses touched and they downed the first burning shot.

An hour later, they were both comfortably tipsy leaning against the rail while they stared out into the darkness beyond the deck lights. After the first shot, they’d settled into sipping rather than gulping. Sharing stories about Rosalee, one night stands, and crazy risks that eased the pain in the moment but deepened it in the morning.

“You know what would freak her out?” Tad wavered a little as he spoke and dropped his arm around Pete’s shoulder. “We should go to her wedding together.”

“Together? Like _together,_ together?”

“Yeah.”

Pete pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Won’t work.”

“Why not? Just because you’re not gay?”

“Bisexual, actually. Discovered that in my wild days after Rosie. No. Won’t work because you are way out of my league. You’d have to show up with Ryan Reynolds or something.”

Tad tipped his head back and laughed. “Nah. I like to be the prettiest one in the room.”

“Right. Your tux will probably cost more than her dress. And most of the photos will be of you, rather than the happy couple.” Pete tilted his head up and laughed.

Tad had no idea where the impulse came from, but he couldn’t help sliding a hand around Pete’s neck and lowering until he’d pressed their lips together. The kiss was softer than he would have expected, if he’d ever given it much thought at all. Sweeter. Edged with need and a little desperate but not overwhelmed by it.

Pete clutched at his hips, and for a second, Tad was afraid he was going to get shoved away. But then warm hands slid underneath his t-shirt and rough nails scraped against skin as Pete pushed into him and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along Tad’s in a welcome invasion.

How long the kiss lasted, Tad had no idea. Neither did he have any idea how they had gotten from the back deck up to Pete’s king-sized bed. He had only a vague recollection of the wrestling match that had left them both naked and achingly hard.

Whether it was the whiskey or the pleasure soaking into his brain from every touch and kiss, he didn’t care. He was just happy where he was, stretched out over Pete and kissing his way across the smooth chest. He settled more deeply into the cradle of Pete’s hips, rocking unhurriedly just to hear the soft sounds and feel the man under him writhe to get more.

“Tad,” Pete gasped when Tad licked across one nipple, body bucking when his fingers found the other nub with a soft squeeze.

“Yes?”

But he switched sides, attacking with soft suction and harder pinches without waiting for an answer.

“I want…” Pete moaned and inhaled sharply, eyes glassy with need, hardly any green ringing the heavy dark centers.

“Yeah?” Tad licked back up Pete’s throat so he could breathe words into the vulnerable, sensitive ear. “What do you want, Pete?”

Pete shivered and twisted, his words shaky with pleasure but absolutely sure when he spoke.

“Want you to fuck me.”

Tad froze, his body thrummed, his heart hammered and his dick throbbed. For a second, he was afraid he was going to lose it just from the husky demand. He swallowed hard and fought his body for control.

“Okay. Yeah. Okay. Definitely. You, uh, got anything?”

“Night stand.”

Tad took a deep, steadying breath and reached for the condom and lube. There were a dozen questions he should be asking. Had Pete gone this far with a guy before? How long had it been? Was he sure?

But Tad didn’t ask. Didn’t want to risk changing the mood. Or Pete’s mind.

Instead, he went slow, slipping in one slick finger at a time, stretching and pushing Pete to frenzied begging before he’d give him more.

When he was sure neither of them was thinking about anything but Tad’s cock buried deep in Pete’s ass, he slid the condom on, settled between the legs spread wide for him and slowly pushed inside.

Pete gasped, shifted restlessly like he was trying to get closer, get more, but Tad kept control. He enjoyed dragging every moan and sigh and ragged _please_ from Pete until he was as deep as he could go. Then he kissed him hard, letting his tongue fuck into Pete’s mouth while Pete twisted and trembled and used his whole body to plead for more.

Then he started to move.

It wasn’t going to last long. It had been weeks since he’d had sex. Years since he’d been with a guy this way. Years since he’d been willing enough to trust. The intimacy of it was as intoxicating as the whiskey had been. He concentrated on keeping his thrusts even and rhythmic, pulling sweet, uninhibited sounds out of Pete with every sure stroke.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded. “Wanna' watch you… wanna' feel you…”

Pete’s hand wrapped around his own dick and they both moaned at the way his body instantly tightened. There was no finesse in the strokes, no teasing attempts to draw it out. Just rough and needy and desperate. Tad was pretty sure it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. No drama, no coyness, only real, honest desire.

And then the body around him tightened so fast, the heat surrounding him seemed magnified a thousand times. Pete arched, gasped and came with Tad’s name a rough whisper on his lips.

Something in Tad broke at the sound and he lost all finesse. He thrust wildly until he lost all control and one, final stroke plunged him as deep as he could go. He curled over Pete, hands digging into the sharp hip bones while he trembled on the edge, felt the contractions roll through him and came with sharp pleasure-pain that made his mind go blank and his body vibrate until he collapsed.

When he could finally move again, he dragged himself out of bed and cleaned up, bringing back a damp cloth to take care of Pete, as well. Green eyes blinked at him with groggy surprise and he murmured a soft thanks. Tad just smiled and tossed the cloth on the floor when he was done, laughing at the expected, exasperated eye-roll.

Then he flopped on his side and snuggled up, hand on Pete’s stomach and head close enough to whisper in his ear. “I’m sleeping here tonight.”

Pete’s eyes had already drifted close, but he shifted, closing the last inch of space between them so their bodies pressed skin to skin.

“Okay.”

#

Tad woke up wrapped around Pete. He waited for the regret that had descended on him the last few times he indulged in a tipsy hook up to poke at him. But the urged to back-pedal and run didn’t come. Really, he wanted to snuggle closer and go back to sleep. Maybe do it all over again.

Except, Pete was snuffling awake. Tad held his breath and waited, wondering if he should apologize or bluff his way through with charm and sarcasm.

Green eyes opened slightly, blinked a couple of times, then closed again.

“Second thoughts?” Tad kept the question light, but his stomach was tight. Usually he was looking for an excuse to escape. This morning, though, he wasn’t ready to be pushed away.

“About the sex or the whiskey?” His voice was hoarse and raspy and Tad felt a little guilty that his body reacted immediately, pushing a little closer. “Because I would totally be up for the sex again if my head weren’t throbbing from the after-effects of the whiskey.”

“Yeah?” Tad was surprised at the eagerness in his own voice. It had been a long, long time since his reaction was enthusiastic rather than jaded. Then a finger of conscience poked at him. “Uh, there’s something I need to tell you.”

One eye, slid open. “If the condom broke and you have an STD, I will throw you out the window, so help me…”

“No. No, I’m clean. Condom’s fine. We’re good.” He took a deep breath. “I, uh, read some of your screenplay.”

“You what? How?”

“You threw away some edited pages. I pulled them out of the trash.”

Pete rolled over and glared. “How dare you? I told you my work was none of your business.”

“Actually, you said your laptop was off limits. Everyone knows anything thrown away is fair game.”

The glare got darker and his lips twisted into a painful frown. “Fine, tell me how much it sucked and get it over with.”

“Did Rosalee ever tell you what I said after I gave her your smile speech?”

“Honestly, didn’t want to hear about you at that point.”

“She said it was better than any speech from any of my movies. I told her I had a better writer. I meant it then. I mean it even more now. I sent some of the pages to the guy who directed my last romantic comedy.”

Pete lifted his head and yelled, “You what?”

They both winced at the volume and Pete dropped his head back on the pillow with a groan.

Tad tentatively rested his hand on Pete’s bare stomach and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “He wants to see more.”

Eyes squeezed tight, Pete relaxed fractionally under his stroking fingers. “He liked it?”

“Yeah. He thinks you have potential.” He let his hand drift a little lower, and smiled at the shiver that rippled through Pete. “You mad?”

“A little.” But a smile flitted around his mouth and he arched into Tad’s caress.

“Anything I can do to make it up to you?”

His hand shifted even lower and Pete gasped at the contact.

“Well, you can try.”

Tad laughed, closed his hand around the hard shaft and claimed Pete’s mouth with a scorching kiss.

He didn’t know how long it would last, but it seemed, for now, they’d both managed to find a small piece of that middle ground.

 

 


End file.
